Reading is, like, so gross in general, right? All that squinting and forming the words aloud has GOT to be giving me wrinkles. So, duh, of COURSE I didn’t read “Game of Thrones,” or any of those other silly fantasy novels. Have you seen them? They’re so…bulky, how would they ever fit in my cute Chanel clutch? Plus, there is NOTHING in there that is going to teach me to be a skinny bitch, explain why men insist on speaking Martian to me all the time, or outline twelve days to a GOOP-ier me.
So, like, you can imagine my total shock and horror when Brad (cute Brad from Accounting, not pervy Brad from the Mail Room) asked me to come over and watch this “Game of Thrones” thingie on HBO with him this Sunday. Like, what if I fell asleep, you guys? Swords and made-up languages and, like, weird creatures that are NOT hot vampires that sparkle? Gag me with my Pinkberry spoon. But then, get this, I was reading the New York Times (like, TOTALLY, by accident, you guys, the nail salon was out of Cosmo and Glamour) and this chick says that there’s, like, a lot of SEX in this Throney show. SQUEEEEE!!! Okay, I don’t want to make you read the whole article (wrinkles, right?), so here are the important, steamy, sexy bits.
Like “The Tudors” and “The Borgias” on Showtime and the “Spartacus” series on Starz, “Game of Thrones,” is a costume-drama sexual hopscotch, even if it is more sophisticated than its predecessors. It says something about current American attitudes toward sex that with the exception of the lurid and awful “Californication,” nearly all eroticism on television is past tense. The imagined historical universe of “Game of Thrones” gives license for unhindered bed-jumping — here sibling intimacy is hardly confined to emotional exchange.
The true perversion, though, is the sense you get that all of this illicitness has been tossed in as a little something for the ladies, out of a justifiable fear, perhaps, that no woman alive would watch otherwise. While I do not doubt that there are women in the world who read books like Mr. Martin’s, I can honestly say that I have never met a single woman who has stood up in indignation at her book club and refused to read the latest from Lorrie Moore unless everyone agreed to “The Hobbit” first. “Game of Thrones” is boy fiction patronizingly turned out to reach the population’s other half.
Like, OMG! It’s going to be like “Sex in the Ancient Medieval Possibly Made-Up City,” you guys!!!! SO stoked. Can’t wait.
Joanna Robinson has a headache now. F*ck you, Ginia Bellafante, way to make generalizations about your gender. Enjoy your book club, I’m sure the conversations are f*cking dazzling. F*ck you, NYT, for assigning the absolute INCORRECT person to review this show. This “review” is almost as bad as that tragically incomprehensible one from Slate. But at least this one was written in English.